PERSONAL BLOG

Next, the ceremonious opening of the tamale de mole. Oil slicked and covered in a banana leaf, I planned to reveal the masa layer by layer and devour the tamale as though I was effortlessly reading a new novel that I couldn’t get enough of. Turning page after page until I’d be done. Oil slicked masa filled with chicken and Dona Cande’s Mole, undoubtedly the best 40 pesos I would spend all week. As I sat and continued to eat, I was not full, not greedy, or excessively eating - but content and comfortable. I dug into the masa, carefully, as though performing the most tender of operations.

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Two nursing students joined the terrace. They’re spooning coffee drinks into one another’s mouths, and they just kissed before they split their torta - smothering it in hot macha. “Estoy enamorado de tu vida. Estoy enamorado de tu amor. Y cada vez que pienso en tu dulzura. Comienza a florecer mi corazón.” There is passion everywhere. Every day it surrounds me in the wild trees, flowers and locals. And, sadly, I can’t remember the last time I saw so much lust and kissing; or felt it for that matter. Another tourist has replaced the English man and she is alone and lost in her phone. 

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Every morning, since I’ve arrived in Oaxaca, I’ve taken about 6-10 photos a day of the beauty around me. I would also do this in Queens; often finding beauty within the cracked paint that covered another Mary in a half shell, the homages to the Virgin Guadalupe with faux flowers in front of them, flocks of pigeons on the street feasting as though it was their final meal. There was beauty in all of it.
Beauty is a strange word. Mainly, well, I don’t know about you, because I used to associate it with people, physical bodies and looks. And in this association beauty had to be perfect, flawless and pristine.

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Dear Reader, I’m now exactly 3 weeks into my arrival to Oaxaca and the last week proved to be challenging because I was missing my friends. This trip, already, has been different than the last ones. Maybe knowing I wont be going back to apartment B2 has had some residual impact on my psyche? As I felt this way, the universe and God must have been conspiring in my favor. Has that ever happened to you? Where you’ve been longing for something or feeling a certain kind of way and, like magic, the thing that you’ve been desiring suddenly appears?

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Food has been my rock, my old love, my new love, my modern love. I think I’ve avoided writing this because it’s somewhat embarrassing to think I’ve never been in romantic love but my God have I romantically spoon fed myself Nutella from a jar or eaten cake batter like it was the last ounce of love I’d ever make or receive. Emotional and compulsive eating are strange like that, you know? Even after losing nearly 160 lbs. With the food there’s love, hate, indifference and wanting to walk away forever - like I imagine two people must feel during marriage, after kids and when the kids leave. Food has been my marriage. In ugly ways and in beautiful ways. I’ve known it’s pain and empty jars of peanut  butter, sitting, sinking, down my throat, sticky, and eventually sliding down into my stomach. Finally, settling in guilt and shame. I’ve known it’s pleasure as well as I’ve known its pain. No relationship is ever perfect and my ongoing love with food is no different. 

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Have you ever taken 3 hours to eat avocado toast and sip coffee, in public - while alone? 

If not, I suggest you try it. You might think avocado toast would get soggy and your coffee cold, but it was perfectly delightful. The bread held up with its weight of grains and seeds, and the coffee was not piping hot, but remained pleasantly sippable at room temperature; warm in my mouth and palatable. A 3 hour avocado toast and coffee is nothing like eating a dreadful bowl of soup after it has lost its heat. A 3 hour avocado toast, in public, while alone and in Mexico - well, it’s a luxury. 

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My beloved fire escape is where I spent time tanning and drifting into books; drawing or writing for hours, eating meals and drinking wine. Often alone, I built a world here. I cried and wrote a world, all while getting tan. Alas, quiet morning coffee turned into longings as years passed by as life changed, my needs changed and so the story goes. Our only guarantee in this life is change. While I wasn’t ready to let you go, I knew in my heart that I outgrew you. We did our best. I wanted to stop writing and thinking about how different life could be and actually do something about it. A life beyond the fire escape of dreams. It’s time to walk. 14 years, you’ve been my longest romance. Thank you for teaching me how to be on my own and how to love myself. How to create and let go.

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April 9th began as an ordinary Tuesday, actually, a spectacular one. I wrapped a fantastic work project on Sunday evening, Monday was the solar eclipse, and that Tuesday it was so warm, sunny and bright that it called for a walk and visit to Mr. Softee. A perfect NYC spring day after much rain and gray skies.  I left the house wearing a billowy floral dress and brand new white sneakers. Starring in my own sitcom as I exited my building, cherry blossoms floating over my head, I popped in my headphones put on my favorite corny song, Unwritten. Don’t judge me, you know you have a corny walking song too […]

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You know who goes to coffee shops on Saturday nights? Me and hormonal teenagers who are not yet of drinking age. I am currently surrounded by teenagers who are making out and will probably sneak having sex after they finish their croissant and iced tea, while I go home and think about how I have not had sex in almost two years and, then, will eat a piece of cheese. I mean, I suspect I will eat cheese. I can't be too sure. I think that’s the only thing I have in the refrigerator right now. 

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Easter holds a special place in my heart. Most would say Christmas or Thanksgiving, but Easter has always been my first holiday love. Do you see me in that blue dress? It was Easter morning - 1988. I loved that fish tank in our dining room too. And, despite that dress, haircut, and an expression which could only indicate my thighs were already chafing and on fire under that blue dress … I am still capable of believing in springtime renewal and hope. So, why, you may ask, do I love Easter?

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This week I finally leapt into 2024 fashion and purchased wide leg jeans because my thick thighs have rubbed out my skinny ones. Congratulations, thighs! You did it! You two are a force of nature, I tell ya! I also couldn’t more highly recommend GAP Factory high rise wide leg jeans. The fit is perfect for those of us with an ample bum and meaty top thighs. Try ‘em. You may like ‘em. And, here I am smiling. I was smiling because it was a sunny, early spring day in the Hudson Valley and I was out with my best friend.

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It's mental work to detach from a number and make choices because they feel good for us. Even if you want that number on the scale to budge it begins and ends with starting from a place of kindness and care for yourself. We have to want to see ourselves and our lifestyle differently; that's how health changes begin. As a woman who prides herself on “healing a relationship with food, a mindset, and eating from a place of joy” this scale game was the ultimate dip shit move.  Do you relate to any of this scale BS or am I the only one?

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